


The Gods' Are Here

by plentymore



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Inaccurate Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Sex, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28115898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plentymore/pseuds/plentymore
Summary: According to Greek mythology, Gaia and Uranus gave us the Titans, who met the end of their era at the hands of their children, the Olympian gods. Now, a new group of gods have overthrown the Olympians and are on the hunt for a peculiar mortal, Lee Taeyong.Loosely based on the Olympian gods of Greek mythology.
Kudos: 6





	The Gods' Are Here

Taeyong is in the middle of a lecture when he feels an icy wind wrap around his throat, tightening until his vision blackens.

***

The first time he’d felt the strange cold had been at the beginning of the semester. He’d been guiding the freshmen through a treasure hunt when his toes had grown frigid. The sensation left as quick as it had come, and by the time he’d gotten back to his apartment, he’d forgotten all about it.

The second time it’d happened was the third week of the semester, during the first session he’d given as a teacher’s assistant to a small sophomore group in the Policies in Global Migration class. One of his students, a shy boy by the name of Park Jisung was in the midst of introducing himself when the cold had pushed against his back, leaving him breathless for several seconds before it retreated.

He had tried not to let it bother him, but the episodes began to grow more frequent and more painful. His roommate Johnny had suggested he visit the campus clinic, but as the semester rolled on Taeyong became busier and busier. He had five classes, one tutoring session to guide, office hours, and two part-time jobs. There was never any time for anything not already listed on his agenda, much less a visit to the clinic because he felt cold once in a while. He ignored his roommate’s suggestions and continued on with his routine.

***

When Taeyong woke, he was alone in his room. It was dark except for the light that filtered in beneath his door from the hallway. He lay there, observing the slit of light for some time before he heard more than saw somebody’s footsteps approaching and then a soft knock on the door. His mouth was far too parched and his throat still agonizing for him to even attempt a ‘come in.’ The door opened anyway, and in came Yuta, a glass of water in hand.

“Hey, how’re you feeling?”

He pointed to the glass of water in response and Yuta handed it over to him. He swallowed the whole thing in a matter of seconds, desperate and relieved.

“Want me to get you some more?”

“No, that’s okay. Thanks, Yuta.”

His roommate nodded. Taeyong studied him with only the light from the hallway illuminating his features. He realizes with a start that it has been over a week since he’s last seen Yuta. He had grown used to not seeing his roommates due to his schedule, but he wonders if he had been neglecting them.

“Yuta, you okay?”

He doesn’t look at him when he replies, “Of course.”

“Were you the one that brought me home?”

“Yes.” He looks at him now. “I was walking by your classroom when I heard the commotion. People were yelling your name. I went inside and you had passed out so I told them I’d take you home.”

“You were able to carry me home by yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Right. Thank you. I really didn’t want to go to the clinic.”

Yuta nods in acknowledgment.

“Don’t you have any questions?”

“About what?”

“Well, I passed out. I thought you might be curious.”

“Oh, no. Johnny told me you’d been feeling odd.”

“Are you upset?”

“Why would I be?”

“Because I told Johnny and not you.”

“No. We aren’t friends. Just roommates.”

It’s true. Yuta and he aren’t friends. The three of them had roomed together when they were freshmen and got along well enough that they had decided to room together every year since. They were all clean, quiet except for the odd filtering of music through the walls, and they gave fair warning before bringing someone home whether it be for assignments or to pass the night. Over the last three and a half years, Taeyong had developed a friendship with Johnny. He was easy to get along with. He was nice, funny, and had similar tastes in music as him. Yuta was all these things too, kind of. He wasn’t rude, but never particularly nice. He had a sense of humor, in that he’d crack a smile at Johnny or Taeyong’s jokes, but never make a joke himself. He never complained when Johnny and he played music while showering or cooking, but he never played music of his own. He was Nakamoto Yuta. Barely there, barely noteworthy when people asked Taeyong if he got along with his roommates. At Yuta’s words, Taeyong’s throat feels stuck even though he knows the words are true.

“I’ll be going now.”

Alone in his room, Taeyong attempts to blink the guilt away. He doesn’t wonder why Yuta hadn’t taken him to the hospital.

***

December brings snow with it. It flutters from the grey sky thickly, blanketing the main campus square in white. There are no students outside. Taeyong observes all this from the room he uses to hold office hours. He usually shares it with a couple of other assistants, but today they are both absent.

“Hi, Taeyong Hyung.”

“Jisung! Hi. Sorry, I, uh, was distracted by–” he motions awkwardly towards the window before sighing and motioning the boy to join him. He notices then that there is another person with him.

“This is my friend, Jeno. He’s in the same class, but he’s got a different TA. Not very helpful.”

Taeyong doesn’t say anything, not keen on facing the consequences of agreeing with him.

“Is it okay if you explain some things to me? Finals are coming up and I’m hoping it will go a lot better than my midterms.”

Taeyong nods and with his leg drags another chair to the desk where he works. Jeno smiles and his eyes make half-moons that make him look like a child.

They are twenty minutes into the best tutorial he’s ever given, and he’s going through the twelfth chapter which covers the particular vulnerability of women refugees when he feels it again. This time it’s a cold kick to his abdomen, strong enough to make him stagger back into the whiteboard. Jisung and Jeno both startle.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“I– nothing. Just... cold air.”

Both of their faces grow dark, almost predatory at his words, but their features soften quickly enough that Taeyong wonders if it had been a trick of the light.

“Is this the same reason you passed out?” Jisung asks.

“How did you know I passed out?”

“I was passing by when I heard the commotion. That’s when I saw Yuta Hyung and Doyoung Hyung carrying you away.”

Doyoung? Who is Doyoung? Why hadn’t Yuta mentioned him? He had asked Yuta if he had carried him alone, and he had said yes.

“Taeyong Hyung?”

“Right. I don’t know Jisung. I haven’t been to the clinic yet.”

***

Yuta isn’t home when he gets to their apartment that night. Or the night after that. He doesn’t see him for a week, and when he finally does, it is not at home.

A coworker of his at the stationery shop he works at had asked him to cover her for the morning. He's arranging the Christmas postcards at the storefront when he spots Yuta walking across the street, his white coat billowing behind him. With him are Jeno and Jisung, the two of which Taeyong immediately recognizes even if he can’t make out their faces due to the falling snow. They are wearing the same coats they’d been wearing the week before in their tutorial. Jeno wears a coat that is half green and half white and Jisung a distinct red one. There is another boy with them, his hair colored a pink that matches his jacket. Taeyong wonders if it is the person Jisung had mentioned, Doyoung. Kim Doyoung. Taeyong had looked up his name on the university’s Dean List and had found him there. He’d then tried looking him up through social media and had not found anything.

The four men turn the corner, and it isn’t until the last second, as Jisung and Yuta, who make up the tail end of the group, round the corner, that Taeyong notices something that terrifies him.

They don’t have shadows.

***

Johnny had someone over last night, as he mentioned he would, so he hadn’t had a chance to speak to him when he’d gotten home after his double shift at the stationery store. But Taeyong hadn’t slept, and so he is sitting at the kitchen table when Johnny emerges early for his morning coffee.

“Jesus Christ, Taeyong. You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry.”

“Why are you up so early? I thought you were sleeping in today.”

“I need to talk to you about something.” He glances at the floor before he continues, making sure Johnny has a shadow. This whole thing felt absurd.

“It sounds serious.”

Taeyong hesitates. Maybe he had imagined it.

“Yong, what is it?”

He opens his mouth, ready to excuse himself. Brush it off because actually, it was nothing. Then their front door opens and in walks Yuta, followed by the three other boys. All shadowless.

Johnny and him stare, dumbstruck. Yuta had never brought anyone home. Not for anything.

“Good morning.” Johnny is the first one to break the ice.

“Good morning.” It is the pink-haired boy that replies. He is smiling widely, his big eyes gleaming with mirth. “I’m Jaemin.” So not Doyoung.

“I’m Johnny,” he extends his hand, “nice to meet you.” The two shake hands while the four others remain silent.

“Johnny!” A voice sing-songs from his bedroom.

“Oh, that’s me! Sorry, I’ll be back in a bit.” His tall figure disappears into the hallway and Taeyong listens to the sound of the room door closing with trepidation.

“Hyung.”

“Jisung.”

“Hyung, we need to talk to you.”

Taeyong stares at the young boy first and then glances at Yuta. He is watching him.

“Taeyong, you shouldn’t be here anymore. You need to come with us.”

There is the sudden noise of a bed creaking and he glances towards Johnny’s door, surprised that he’d be having sex while they had visitors. Jaemin grins cheekily.

“That would be my doing.” He says, sounding proud of himself before winking at him. Taeyong’s response to the boys flirting is instantaneous as an unexpected heat grows inside him.

“Stop it.” Jeno’s voice is serious, with a warning edge, and it stops. The heat and the attraction leave like the snapping of fingers. Jaemin pouts. “We need to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“It is my job to take you.”

The cold wind grabs a hold of his wrist and pulls him out the door, the four boys following after him.

“Sorry Hyung, but you need to come with us. And if you won’t come willingly, I have no choice but to drag you.”

“You’re doing this to me? You’ve been doing this to me all semester long?”

“Not intentionally, not until now.”

“None of this makes sense!” He yells, frustration creating a knot in his throat that is difficult to push back. He's spent months working restlessly on one thing or another. He's exhausted. And this whole thing is ridiculous.

The fight leaves him and a loud wretched sound claws its way through his vocal cords. Jisung lets him go and Taeyong falls to the floor. They are in the stairwell of the apartment complex he lives in, and he is sitting on one of the steps, crying like a child.

“I don’t understand! Why don’t any of you have shadows? Why are you doing this to me? What did I do? I have worked hard! I go to school, I do my assignments, I do the extra credit, I teach you! I go to work every single day! I barely sleep! So why?” He hangs his head, his body tired. His jeans have ridden up due to his childish kicking and he spots the wound on his ankle. “Yesterday, I was getting on the bus after work and the step was wet with snow. I slipped and my ankle landed on a broken beer bottle on the street. Can you believe my luck? The driver yelled at me to hurry up, and when I didn’t he shut the door and drove off. The next bus didn’t come until this morning, so I walked home for an hour before I could wash off my foot.” If they had been in different circumstances, if he hadn’t seen Yuta without a shadow, if Jisung hadn’t just confessed to being able to control the wind, he wouldn’t have said anything. It was the way things were. Life was difficult, things happened, Taeyong never said a word.

“Taeyong,” Yuta says.

He looks up and finds his roommate kneeling before him as if speaking to a toddler who is throwing a tantrum. The other three hang back, looking uncomfortable and he tries his best not to hang his head in shame.

“Taeyong, you didn’t do anything to deserve this. It’s just– destiny. You’re dying. You should’ve died a long time ago, but your proximity to me makes that difficult. You already noticed we don’t have shadows, so believe me when I tell you this, okay?”

He waits for his reply and so Taeyong nods.

“We are gods. Not the type that are kind and forgiving, but the kind who were given purpose when we came to be. Jisung here, he ushers the winter into the year. His cold winds help Jeno guide people to the underworld. To Doyoung.”

“What about him?” He asks, pointing at Jaemin. “And _you_ , what are you?”

“Jaemin, as you experienced earlier, is the god of love and sexual desire. And I heal.”

“Mortals,” Jeno says, “like to fight. I’ve never met a mortal that doesn’t fight their fate, but they always lose. You have no choice, just like we don’t have a choice. You will die today.”

He looks up at them. They are gods. Not the type that are kind and forgiving, but the kind with a purpose.

***

Taeyong remembers now, an event during first year he’d buried. Johnny and he had been sitting at a cafe near campus, working on an assignment when Taeyong had noticed their other roommate ordering at the register. When he’d finished paying and turned to look for a table, he had beckoned him over and the boy had smiled thinly before sitting next to him.

“What are you working on?” Taeyong had asked him as he began to pull out his laptop.

“An essay on the history of healing.”

What an odd way to describe medicine, Taeyong had thought. But Yuta’s statement had garnered Johnny’s interest, who’d recently been on a spree of listening to CreepyPasta stories, especially those set in old hospitals.

“Is it interesting?” Taeyong had asked for Johnny’s sake.

“No. I don’t know why they bother. Avoiding death is a recipe for an eternity of hell.”

“What?” Johnny had asked, perplexed and concerned by Yuta’s words.

“That which should be healed will heal. I can guarantee that. But do you think cheating the Underworld of your soul will make its ruler very happy with you? He doesn’t take kindly to unpunctuality.”

There had been a short silence before Johnny exploded.

“You scared me, man! I thought you were one of those anti-vaxxers or something!” Johnny said, laughing. He’d then given a big sigh and turned back to his screen, “Alright, alright. We won’t ask you about your assignments anymore.”

Taeyong had smiled, though he wasn’t sure Yuta’s words had been in jest.

***

The gods took him from the apartment without much struggle. Jaemin drove them to the outskirts of the city, Jeno by his side and the rest of them in the backseats. The tall buildings disappear behind them, replaced by the monochromatic neighborhoods typical of the suburbs. It is when the view becomes solely snow-coated fields and pine trees that Taeyong finds the courage to speak again.

“Why did you heal me if you think I shouldn’t continue living?”

“It wasn’t intentional. We’ve lived together for so long, and you’re not annoying. Naturally, I grew slightly attached.”

“Naturally,” he replies bitterly.

“I started healing Johnny and you unconsciously. When I noticed, it didn’t seem like a problem because you weren’t meant to die. Or so I thought. Until Doyoung came looking for me. When I tried to stop, I found out I couldn’t control it.”

“Is that why you’re taking me to him?”

“Hyung, your time has passed and Yuta can’t stop healing you. Taking you straight to Doyoung is the only way for you to die now.”

“Right. Another question. I understand why Jeno is here, but why are the rest of you accompanying us?”

“Are you kidding? You’re an anomaly. Gods get bored in eternity. We’re just here for the show.” Jaemin says with a laugh, as if he finds himself to be very witty. Jeno raises an eyebrow at him.

“One last question.”

“What?”

“Why do you go to university if you’re gods?”

“Hyung. Our university was founded millennials ago for the children of gods. I'm still not too sure how mortals ended up there.”

Taeyong doesn’t bother with a follow-up question and they travel the rest of the way in silence.

***

The house they arrive at is nothing less than he’d expect. A castle-like stone structure surrounded by a variety of trees, most of them leafless. Its walls are crawling with vines and the stairs leading to the main door are falling apart. The door itself is an ancient creature that moans as it opens.

“Doyoung,” Yuta says to someone approaching us, “he came willingly.”

“Really?” Doyoung’s voice sends a chill up his spine. It is clear and strong, bouncing off the dark walls in an echo. Taeyong thinks this man is evil. He suspects that is the result of being death, of being hell. He wears a form-fitting wine-red suit and a black coat; his formal shoes make no sound against the floor as he finally closes in on them.

“Hyung.”

“Jeno, my talented brother. You’ve done well, despite other people having complicated your job for you.” He is smiling when he says this, but his eyes sparkle with the promise of pain. Yuta cowers and Taeyong cannot blame him for it.

“Is this him?” A sweet voice calls from above. It is a skinny boy, he seems to be about Jisung’s age and is smiling down at Taeyong excitedly. “Are you the one who has been miraculously avoiding death?”

“Yes, this is him.”

The boy runs down the stairs, followed by two others that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Hi,” they say in unison.

“I’m Renjun.”

“I’m Winwin.”

“I’m Mark. We are the Three Fates.”

“Hello.”

“This is our first time seeing someone avoid death.”

He doesn't know how to reply, so he doesn't

“Doyoung!” Winwin declares, turning sharply on his heel to look at the man he is talking to.

“Yes, Winwin?”

“You’ve waited long enough to take him, what’s a few more minutes? Let us play with him a bit.”

Doyoung’s eyes flash, but he nods either way, bowing as the other boy turns his back to him.

“Good.” Winwin takes his hand and guides him up the stairs. Renjun and Mark follow while the rest remain downstairs. A cold wind closes briefly around his throat. When he looks down, Jisung is looking at his feet as if ashamed and Doyoung is next to him, all his teeth showing in a predatory grin.

The Fates guide him through a labyrinth of hallways. Some of the rooms' doors are open, showcasing furniture that Taeyong imagines is older than most museum artifacts. They are passing by a large, illuminated, and empty room when he spots someone watching him through a mirror. He stops. The person in the mirror smiles and waves, and then emerges from the frame as if it were a door.

“This is Jungwoo.”

“Son of Zeus.” His voice is so soft, Taeyong has to hold his breath to hear him.

“What do you mean?”

“By what?”

“Son of Zeus.”

“Yes, we are the children of the gods you're familiar with."

"Where are they?"

"They are long gone. Zeus, Hades, Eros. They are all dead. It’s Jungwoo, Doyoung, and Jaemin now. It’s Yuta, Jisung, Winwin, Renjun, and Mark now."

"I thought gods didn’t die.” He feels more than sees Jungwoo shift uncomfortably next to him. The Fates smile wickedly.

“That’s what mortals books say, don’t they? So eager to believe in something greater than them. Invincible. But they can be killed, isn't that right Jungwoo?” Mark doesn’t wait for Jungwoo to answer, just continues on, his voice eager. “The Olympian gods killed the Titans. And everyone you see here killed the Olympian gods, with the help of The Fates. We have the power to kill anyone, god or not. Winwin creates life, Renjun destiny, and I kill.”

“Yes, they can do all that,” Jungwoo interrupts, “but even then, they don’t know their own destiny. The Fates, the ones before Winwin, Renjun, and Mark did not even see their own death coming when Doyoung cut their strings and carried their souls to the underworld. Isn’t that right, Fates? You don’t even know your own destiny?”

“Well, you can’t have it all. I guess we have to be satisfied with our ability to kill humans– and gods, of course.”

“Right.” Taeyong says. Jungwoo excuses himself, walking with his head held high down the hallway. The Fates guide him once more down the labyrinth and he follows, but all along, a thought forms in his mind. It is an elusive idea floating to and from inside his head, but it grows with each step. It spreads through his body and soul. It envelops him from head to toe.

***

He’d once brought a girl home for the night after having spent the evening out with Johnny in some club that he can’t remember the name of now. But he remembers the girl. She’d been dressed in all black, her pants and halter-top clinging like a second skin to her. She’d had beautiful black hair and black tinted lips. She looked like his goth wet dream come to life, and he was sure he had looked as such to her. They’d spend a good night together, but when he woke the next morning, she wasn’t lying next to him.

Instead, he found her in the kitchen, sitting next to Yuta as he sipped on his coffee.

“So, you’re telling me there’s no heaven? Just the underworld?”

“Mmm.”

“Is the underworld like hell?”

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not the ruler of the underworld likes you.”

“What's his like and dislike based on?”

“Just… him.”

“What about sins?”

Yuta laughs, a loud laugh Taeyong had never heard from him before.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Sins? There’s no such thing. You think the god of the underworld is any better? He rejoices every time someone dies. As sinful as your bible says.”

“What does he do to the people he doesn’t like?”

Taeyong had emerged from the shadows then, and the girl had stood abruptly as if caught. He’d smiled and served himself some coffee. Yuta had not answered her question.

At the time he had assumed they had been talking about a book or a show.

***

The Fates working room is grey with odd smells wafting towards him as soon as the door opens. He tries his best not to gag. The three boys behind him only laugh.

“It’s not pleasant, we know.”

“What’d you expect childbirth, life, and death to smell like?"

“Right.”

Winwin and Mark open the windows to let fresh air in. They must be on the highest floor of the castle, high enough to have surpassed the trees. They go on as far as the eye can see.

“Why did you bring me here?”

The three look at each other, rolling their eyes with humor.

“What is this?”

“Oh, Mortal. You keep forgetting, we know it all.”

“Except for your own destinies.”

“Wrong.”

“Actually, Jungwoo is mistaken. As are the rest of the gods. Except for Doyoung, of course. He knows who we are.”

“That stupid boy thinks he’s in charge, but did you see him bow to me when I declared you’d come up with us? Arrogant. The worst trait in a god.”

“Mortal, we know what you’re planning. We’ve seen it.”

“What do you mean you’ve seen it? Do I succeed?”

“Under one condition.”

“What is the condition?”

“You must die.”

“No! You know I don’t deserve it, please.”

“Don’t say such ridiculous things! Deserve? We know who you are, we made you. There is no need to convince yourself or us of your innocence. If you die, we will make you a god. A replacement for Doyoung. You will be far more cruel than Doyoung has ever been. You will make them all suffer. There will not be a merciful moment during your whole existence.”

“Mortal, you are not good. There is no such thing, and if there were, you’d be the farthest thing from it. Or have you forgotten all the times you lusted over the people Johnny brought home? Have you forgotten how you envied him even though you called him your friend? Let's not dig any further. You're not good.”

“Then why would you want me to be a god?”

“Not just any god. The god of the underworld. Don't you think all the ugliness in you would make a great god of darkness? Doyoung is young. Born from Hades with dreams of grandeur that he will never reach. What can a twenty-one-year-old god know that you don’t?”

“I’m only twenty-two.”

“Yes, but far wiser. I took care of that.”

“And far crueler. I made sure of that.” Renjun holds his hands in his own as he says this. Taeyong looks down at his small hands and watches with terror as they grow wrinkly and large, with long yellow nails that cut into his skin. He tears himself away. The three boys that stood in front of him are gone, replaced by ancient women.

“What are you?”

“We are The Fates, we’ve said so before,” they speak in unison, as they’d done downstairs, “there is no god that can kill us. Doyoung had to find out the hard way when he came to off us.”

“Why don’t the others know?”

“Doyoung is under the impression that our existence undermines his hold over the rest of the gods. We conceded in taking on new bodies.”

“I’m not who you say I am. I am good. I wouldn’t hurt anybody.”

“You stupid Mortal!” Mark pushes him, the blow powerful. He crashes into the wall, falling pathetically on the stone floors. The three of them surround him, baring their teeth. “You will either die and be reborn powerful enough to replace Doyoung or you will die and be tortured by him, which do you choose?”

“I would rather die and be tortured than torture others for eternity!”

“Very well.”

***

During the moment in which a soul is wrenched from its body, it becomes authentic. Free from all its previous ties. Sincere in a way only souls can be.

***

Taeyong wakes in The Fates room. There is a deafening sound which he slowly begins to make out.

“Kill him! Kill him now! Where is the damn thread, Atropos?”

There is the sound of something heavy crashing to the ground.

“His thread is no longer there, Doyoung. His is with the gods now.”

“Someone explain to me why The Fates are Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos!”

“What is happening?”

“Jeno, Jisung, help me kill him.”

Taeyong’s eyes fling open then, his body fully alert. Doyoung is descending upon him, but before he can grab hold of him, Taeyong clutches his coat and with strength he’s never been capable of until then, he flings the other away.

The room is quiet as Taeyong stands and makes his way over to Doyoung’s strewn body.

“How dare you touch me, you mortal! I will make sure you are tortured for eternity!”

“A threat coming from you, Doyoung... It's such a shame, isn’t it? That you’re so weak. You killed your own father because you thought he was too weak, living in Zeus’ shadow, but you’re just like him. You can’t even stand up to The Fates, but I saw Jungwoo do it. Never once bowed to them.”

Doyoung kicks at him, but Taeyong avoids it easily. This is his destiny. He will win, whether Doyoung wants it or not.

Atropos cuts the string.

***

The winter is dying down and students begin to emerge from the buildings to soak in the warming sun.

“Taeyong Hyung!”

Taeyong turns from the book he’d been reading. He watches one of the students from this semester's TA session running towards him.

“Hyung!” He exclaims, out of breath.

“What is it, Shotaro?”

“I wanted your help in understanding this essay prom–” he stops suddenly, looking around before looking back at him, eyes wide with terror, “Hyung, you don’t have a shadow.”

“Well, isn’t that something?” Taeyong replies, grinning at the young boy.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first ever fanfiction (cue: internal screaming), inspired by my 2020 Secret Santa who has been nothing but sweet and encouraging. 
> 
> My main goal in writing this is to have the people who come across it be entertained. However, if you find it in your heart to do so, I would appreciate /respectful/ feedback. Kudos are welcome too, hehe. Thank you and have a blessed day! ☺︎♡
> 
> Disclaimer: My work is in no way meant to reflect the true character of NCT members. I use them merely as a jumping-off point to create fiction. I encourage everyone to use critical thinking when consuming fan-created media of the members. I do not make any monetary profit off of this work.


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